Far Cry from Skyrim: The Mask of Hahdrimal
by cosmic-cube-keeper
Summary: The Dragonborn is sent into a rift by a Draugr's shout. He arrives in the Rook Islands, and learns the true origin of the islands' violence and insanity: the Dragon Priest Hahdrimal. ...and Vaas learns there are people and things far more dangerous than Hoyt... AU
1. Stranger in a Strange Land

_SUMMARY: "The Dragonborn is sent into a rift by a Draugr's shout. He arrives in the Rook Islands, and learns the true origin of the islands' violence and insanity: the Dragon Priest Hahdrimal. Vaas learns there are people and things far more dangerous than Hoyt... AU"_

_DISCLAIMER: Far Cry 3 and its characters belong to Ubisoft and respective companies, all rights reserved. The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and its characters belong to Bethesda Softworks and its companies, all rights reserved. I'm only playing in their respective sandboxes._

_WARNINGS: AU, OOC'ness, Violence, Coarse Language, Character Death, mature subject matter. Possible male/male relationship. Jason/friends bashing, semi-evil!Dragonborn, vampirism._

_Posted January 7, 2013._

* * *

**1. STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND**

* * *

How long had he been out of it? Minutes? Hours? _Days_? Mazhe's head still felt like it was full of tundra cotton, his ears rung, and everything just felt... wrong. For the second time in recent memory, his hands were bound—this time up over his head, to some sort of wooden framework... he could feel the scratchy lengths of rope rubbing against his wrists. Opening his eyes brought a wave of vertigo, and the contents of his stomach gave an uneasy turn. Whatever happened, it had thrown him for a loop. What was the last thing he remembered... something back at Saarthal.

His vision was beginning to clear, as was his hearing—though the ringing sensation still persisted somewhat. He could hear someone speaking, and although they were speaking in the common language, for a moment, he believed the individual might be a Khajiit, an intelligent beast race with feline features. He knew a few Khajiit personally, both at the College of Winterhold, and in other places.

Attempting to focus on the speaker, he was surprised to find he was instead human. He had a strange instrument in his hands that seemed to cast a bright glow from it.

"...jumping out of air planes, flying like birds? Fuck, that is crazy," the stranger on the other side of the cage was saying. His vision much clearer now, he realized he was inside a cage, with two others.

'Air... planes? Fuck?' Mazhe thought to himself. Neither of those words were in his vocabulary. Of course, that wasn't the biggest issue of contention. No, that was the individual on the other side of the cage. He had to be about six feet tall, also wearing strange clothes—a red shirt with no sleeves, and pants with a bizarre pattern on them. He had black hair that was shaved off on both sides, very much like Mazhe's, save for the fact it was really short and stood on end. A terrible scar crossed the left side of his head, stopping just short of going into his eye. He was speaking again.

"So who do we have here?"

He pointed to a guy opposite Mazhe. He wore strange clothes (come to think of it, all of them did)- a shirt with text somehow written on it in white letters.

"_Grant_..." and he pointed to the second captive, "...and _Jason_. From California, huh? Well, I hope your mama and your papa really love you, because you two white boys look expensive. And that's good, because I like expensive things—I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The captive named Grant had grunted something unintelligible through the gag over his mouth—Mazhe now realized he had one as well. It nullified one possible method of escape, at least for the moment. He closed his eyes, and opened them again, at once picking up the various living forms in the immediate area.

Being a _champion of the night_ did have some pitfalls, but more often than not, the benefits far outweighed them. Having a form of predator vision was most certainly one of those benefits. His senses growing sharper, he could also now pick up the much more potent smell of blood—human blood, and lots of it. This place had saw the death of many, as it seemed the scent of blood drifted back for years.

The reasons behind this killing field could be explored at another time. For now, Mazhe simply focused on the living forms around him. Importantly, there were three others outside the cage, including the one who'd been speaking up to this point—obviously the one with some sort of authority. Mazhe would have some very direct questions for the individual... just before he drained the bastard dry.

The speaker had moved to the corner of the cage. "What did you say?" he repeated. That earned more grunts from Grant.

'The fool's gonna get himself killed,' Mazhe muttered, as the speaker knelt down beside the cage.

"Do you want me to _slice_ you open like I did your _friend_?!" The explosion of rage came from nowhere. It was as if the individual were a completely different person. "Shut the fuck up, okay!? _I'm_ the one with the fucking dick!"

'Perhaps he has been touched by Sheogorath,' Mazhe guessed, as the speaker demanded, "Look at me! Look me in the fucking eye—hey! You _fuck_! Look me in the eye."

Grant grunted again and cast the most hateful glare he could muster toward the speaker.

"You're my _bitch_," the speaker continued, getting to his feet, "I rule this fucking kingdom. Shut the fuck up. Or you _die_."

While he turned his attention back to Jason, Mazhe again closed his eyes, semi-tuning out the conversation. Whatever this was, it was different. How had he got here? Where was here exactly, come to think of it? Everything felt... different. The flow of magical energy was... odd. Faint, virtually non-existent.

For now, a plan of action. Escape the enclosure was obviously the first objective—but not with this many guards. If it were just the mad one, he could easily cope... but not with three. After that? He needed information. Perhaps the mad one could be... coerced into cooperation.

At that thought, another unsettling realization set in. When was the last time he fed? At least a day, if the sensations he was getting were right. It wouldn't be too bad, then. His eyes would look redder than someone completely blitzed out on some high-grade Skooma, but, better that than his true condition to be discovered. Vampires were hated creatures in Tamriel, and to be discovered as one guaranteed a quick death. Perhaps not one against one or two, but against an entire town or settlement? No, that sort of confrontation never ended well.

"Vaas!" came a shout from across the room, pulling Mazhe out of his thoughts. A man was standing in the doorway, dressed in even stranger clothing. Mazhe couldn't make out his features. "Stop scaring the hostages. I need you to take care of the rejects."

'_Vaas_. Definitely not a Nord. A fellow Breton? No, definitely not,' Mazhe thought, as the man got to his feet. He glanced over to the new speaker, then turned around again.

"I just hope that you two pieces of _fucks_ are more entertaining than your friends. Ta-ta, bye-bye."

He walked off, and did something Mazhe didn't see that clearly startled one of the other guards. He then joined the other man at the door, as did the second of the three guards. That left only one. Perfect.

Mazhe glanced over at Grant, who was already trying to wiggle out of his restraints. Making sure the guard was not paying much attention, Mazhe simply set fire to the bindings with a simple flame spell. It was one of the first spells he'd ever learned. The bindings were off within moments, and Mazhe was free. He jerked the gag off his face, and quickly crawled over to Grant, doing the same.

"Common language?" Mazhe whispered.

"English, yeah, we speak English," Grant answered, "Get us free."

"Mmmph..." Jason grunted.

"_Shor's_ balls," Mazhe muttered, "I will deal with our guard first. Be silent, the both of you."

Glancing around, he cupped both hands together, and aimed for the single guard, an orange glow immediately forming. The fireball spell was significantly stronger than the simple flame spell, and dual-cast, it caused double the damage, at the cost of taking longer to charge up.

He let it fly just as the guard turned around, and had to smirk inwardly, as it hit the man square in the face. He let out the most pitiful "Uhhhh..." before collapsing in a heap, his hands not reaching his face. He was dead, his face having been destroyed in an instant by the intense, concentrated heat. The adrenaline was now pumping, and Mazhe was completely focused and aware of his surroundings. Combat mode, he would play for keeps—and perhaps work a meal into it on the side. The blood craving was rising, he could feel it—and smell it.

Pushing that aside, he helped Grant to free his brother, and the three got to their feet. Mazhe then quickly searched his back pouch.

"Thank you _Nocturnal_," he whispered, finding his lock picking tools in the place he expected them to be. He knew better than to try and bust through the wood bars... they looked to be several inches in diameter. Mazhe was a strong man, but... not that strong. Besides, there were always simpler ways around the situation. He inhaled a deep breath, and set to work.

Less than a minute later, there came an audible click, and Mazhe was yanking the chains off the gate.

"Pretty slick, man," said Grant, impressed.

"Thank you. It's Mazhe."

"Grant, and this is..."

"Jason," Mazhe finished, glancing around. "We should get moving."

"Agreed. Look, pair of you stay behind me," said Grant. Mazhe arched an eyebrow, but inclined his head. 'His funeral,' he thought. Jason, meanwhile, seemed to be frozen in fear, eyes locked on the now very dead guard.

"Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," he was muttering.

"Be silent, or end up exactly like him!" Mazhe hissed dangerously, "I will not be slain on account of a _fool_!"

Grant gave Mazhe a look of fury, but turned to his brother. "J. Listen to me. He's right. Keep it together, and keep quiet." He pushed the door to the cage open, and the three of them were out into the room. Seconds later, they had already passed through the door they'd seen Vaas leave by.

Mazhe was still very much confused by the surroundings. The darkness was somewhat of a blessing, but equally a curse, since they were in a way having to blunder around in the dark. Twice already, he'd prevented Grant from leading them into a throng of bandits—his predator vision easily picked them up... and after the second near-disaster, Grant relented and let Mazhe take the lead.

In a medium-sized room, Grant became excited, drawing the group over to a workbench up against a wall. There, Mazhe found his dagger, along with a few other personal affects the bandits had collected from him. Everything was quickly stowed where it belonged, while Jason pocketed the strange device Vaas had been toying with earlier. Two other strange devices were also stowed away, and Mazhe made a mental note to ask about them when an appropriate opportunity presented itself. He was also very curious, seeing a paper with a near-perfect drawing of a woman, the detail more life-like than any he'd ever seen before. He caught himself reaching out for it, deciding not to bother. He could ask another time. For now, it was time to move on.

They soon came to what was best described as a crawl-space, with there only being enough room for them to get through crouched low to the ground. Through a screen they could see the yard, and it was there Mazhe and his fellow captives were treated to another horrible scene.

Five captives were all lined up on a platform, bound and gagged, with Vaas pacing in front of them, some sort of weapon which Mazhe had never seen before clutched in his hand. He held it up to the chest of one captive, there was a strange pop-like noise, and the individual crumpled to the floor.

"What... what is he doing?" Mazhe whispered, confused.

"He... he shot him," came Jason's alarmed response. They couldn't make out what was being said at the other end of the yard, but one by one, the rest of the captives all fell, victim of the strange weapon Vaas wielded.

"C... c'mon, let's keep moving," Grant prompted.

They moved through a small opening, into yet another crawl-space. This time, through the screening, they saw three rather vicious dogs. Mazhe simply hissed, showing his teeth, silently thankful his companions were behind him. The dogs, which had began to growl as they approached, whimpered and scuttled off, immediately intimidated by the much more dangerous predator.

Silently emerging from the crawl-space, Mazhe realized their way was blocked.

"Balls," he cursed quietly.

"J... throw a rock over there," Grant whispered, pointing toward the other side of the area.

"Throw a..." Jason was confused, and the look on his face said it all. He was terrified.

"We need a distraction," Mazhe clarified, "Toss something over there to make the guard move."

"Can't you just... light him on fire?"

"No," Mazhe answered, "There's at least three others nearby. Just create a distraction."

Still doubting the wisdom of it, Jason picked a small stone off the ground, and tossed it toward the wall on the opposite side of the area. It landed with an audible clunk.

"What was that?" the guard muttered, eyes immediately drawn to the source of the noise. Weapon at the ready, he made for the fence to investigate.

"Good to know the bandits here are just as clueless," Mazhe muttered, "Let's keep going—no no, this way." His senses picked up the three others in the next area. They instead veered off to the left, through another crawl-space.

Now Mazhe could hear Vaas talking again, though some of the words were in a strange language. The man was ruthless, this was an absolute certainty. Perhaps completely mad, but ruthless. It was equally clear, he was most definitely someone who carried authority in whatever plane of Oblivion Mazhe now found himself in.

They crept on by, with Jason casting a weary glance back at the scary man, as they entered another crawl-space—there seemed to be a lot of those.

"How... how do you know where they are?" Jason finally managed to ask, as they come out from under the crawl-space, and into a small field with strange plants in it.

"It's an ability I have," Mazhe answered honestly, "I can pick up various life forms for about forty to fifty yards in all directions."

"You're talking thermal imagery," Grant guessed.

Mazhe shook his head. "Thermal? I... I don't know what that is. All I know is, I can sense living things. We'd best keep moving... I think we are getting close to the edge of the camp... there are fewer people around and I'm starting to pick up wildlife."

Mazhe was right. They had then entered another crawl-space, and this one passed under a road. At one point, something really noisy passed overhead, making the ground vibrate for several moments. They all stopped for a moment, as Mazhe tried to understand exactly what it was. More questions he wanted to ask, but also knew this wasn't the time. The world he found himself in was confusing, to say the least.

The passageway they were in was cluttered with debris, garbage, papers, and knick-knacks. From the terrified looks on Jason and Grant's faces, whatever this stuff represented was not a good thing. More questions for later, then.

"You're really not from this world, are you?" Grant whispered.

"Not the best time to be having this conversation. We're at the edge of the camp, I am certain of it."

"Doesn't matter either way. My brother and I owe you for getting us this far," whispered Grant, as they got moving again.

"Don't thank me yet, we'll want to put as much distance between us and the bandits here—"

_POP_. The sound was deafening from that close, as Grant crumpled to the ground, and Jason rushed to his side. Mazhe was still hidden by the crawl-space, and he cursed himself for not being more vigilant. Three shadows were visible now, standing above the exit.

"What, you want to run? Huh? You want to run, you want to disrespect me? You want to fuck with me? I mean, you come here, with your... with you pretty boy face, right, and your pretty boy phone, your dimwit brother, and you want to fuck with me—"

Mazhe had crouched down, trusting the enchantments on his gear would do their job in making him difficult to see. There was no room for a mistake... whatever kind of weapon Vaas had, it was lethal. Still... there was one thing Mazhe could do that these... monsters... could never counter.

"You want to fuck with me..." Vaas continued, "I like that. No, I respect—"

"_Fus... RO DAAAAH_!"

The shout echoed with that of a clap of thunder. Vaas was caught in the outer edge of the blast, and was sent into the partition about six feet behind him. The other pair were hit by the full blast of the shout, being launched into the night sky such as a rocket leaving a launch pad. Of course, neither of them realized the peril of their situation, given both were knocked unconscious by the blast.

"What... Fuck... holy fuck, what was that?" Jason dared question, though he still held his hands over the wound on his brother's neck.

"What... what ever... he did... Mazhe... get my b-brother away from here," Grant wheezed.

But Mazhe didn't hear. He was expertly scaling the small embankment to the platform overlooking their supposed escape route. It was as if this were all planned somehow. For now, he quickly found his target—Vaas had crumpled in a heap against the partition, and although he was conscious, not a whole lot was going on at this point, given his dazed expression. Mazhe knelt down beside him and smiled.

"Well, Mr... uh, Vaas... it looks like you... and moi... are going to have a lot of fun together."

Mazhe smirked, and reached over, and ever so gently pushed the man's head slightly to the side, and he sunk his fangs into the jugular artery. Vaas was only slightly aware of what was happening, having been completely caught off guard by whatever the strange individual had done. He could feel the strange, but oppressive energy pulsing through him, and it was as if part of his life force were being syphoned off. For the first time in his life, he felt completely helpless, at the mercy of a monster.

Then, the sensation stopped. He was at the brink of losing consciousness, now feeling terribly drained on top of being knocked silly by whatever force the monster had used on him.

Mazhe smirked again, feeling the bond forming between them. It was nearly intoxicating... perhaps better than an orgasm—or... well, let's not go that far. No matter, it was a tremendous surge of energy, a tremendous reward for his effort.

"Mazhe?!" came Jason's alarmed voice, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Just finishing some business," Mazhe answered. He leaned down, and picked up his captive, slinging him over his shoulder like a heavy sack. He then carefully picked his way back down the embankment, to where Jason was still trying to stop Grant from bleeding out.

"What... why did you..." Jason was both frightened and confused, seeing Mazhe had brought Vaas with him.

"Look. We have to go. The rest of the bandits are already on the move," Mazhe said, his eyes flicking back toward the camp. Indeed, his vision was already picking up more than a dozen shapes headed in their direction. Of course his use of the Thu'um would attract a lot of attention.

"J-j-jason... go. L-leave m-me." Even in the dim light, Mazhe could see Grant now looked ashen. The wound was fatal, that was certain. Given he was already burdened with a load, there was no way they could take him along. Come to think of it... Jason didn't seem to be much use either. Considering he would have all the answers he needed thanks to Vaas, perhaps it was just best to leave Jason to his own devices.

"I'm leaving in ten seconds... nine... eight—"

"Jason... p-please! Save y-yourself."

With a sob, Jason tore himself away from his brother, and the three of them set off.

"Stay on my left. You know how to use a knife?"

"What?"

"I'll take that as a 'no'. Crossbow?"

"A what?"

Mazhe mentally sighed. 'Useless farm boy,' he muttered in his head. The boy would be of absolutely no use to him. Perhaps he should have left him behind. Now, of course, it was a bit late... though, not too late for an unfortunate accident. He again sighed mentally, then shifted the dead weight over his shoulder. It would be much easier once his captive was able to walk on his own.

For several hours they hiked, easily avoiding any pursuers and other predators, thanks to Mazhe's sight. It also helped that being considered 'undead' put him near the top of the food chain. Most animal predators tended to give him a wide berth—other than the odd wolf or sabre cat. But generally, the wildlife knew better than to cross paths with him. If only it worked that way with bandits... or necromancers... or Forsworn...

They reached the edge of a deep gorge, with a narrow footbridge as the only way to cross. A strange thumping sound filled the air, and this confused Mazhe somewhat. It was much louder than the strange sound he'd heard just before they left the camp, and now his predator vision picked up four shapes, hidden by the walls of the gorge—though somehow they were rising in the air.

Then: blinding light. Mazhe nearly dropped Vaas, startled by the sudden brilliance.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jason swore, as the strange contraption twisted about.

"What is it?!"

"Chopper—helicopter!" Jason shouted back, "Fuck, fuck—duck!"

Mazhe followed the suggestion, and was more than thankful for the timing, as the branches and trees behind them seemed to be riddled by some sort of projectile launched from the strange machine. Mazhe dumped Vaas on the ground (he let out a rather ungraceful 'Oomph' as he landed) and immediately cupped his hands together, charging up a thunderbolt—a very potent shock spell. It had been rather effective against _Mirmulnir_ and a few other dragons he'd faced. Against this bizarre contraption on the other hand?

Feeling it charged up, he let fly, and gave a vicious grin, as the powerful attack instantly crossed the distance, to slam into the machine. It was rather spectacular, as the machine lurched, an electrical storm surging across the outside of it. It swung around, pitched up, then down... back around again, as though possessed, the thump-thump-thump becoming less and less. To Mazhe, it was as though the beast were in its death throes. It began to lose height, rammed the bridge, its ropes and wood slats immediately becoming entangled in the strange rotating blades. And then...

BOOOOOM. A giant fireball ballooned out of the gorge, and Mazhe had to smirk again. Yes, the spell most certainly worked against the strange contraptions here.

"Fuck... fuck, fuck..." Jason was still muttering, a terrified look on his face. The vegetation up the side of the gorge was catching fire, illuminating the area somewhat.

"Shut up. Let's keep moving." Mazhe was already lifting Vaas back up over his shoulder.

"What... what was that?" Jason dared ask, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I mean... how can you do that?"

"I'm a mage. That was a strong shock spell, while the others I cast back in the camp were fire-based. That's not to be shared with anyone. For your safety and mine."

"I... this is so fucked up..." Jason muttered. They were following a path alongside the gorge, considering their way across had been cut off by the helicopter's crash.

"You are not the only one so out of place, boy," Mazhe whispered, "And stop blundering about. Rather not run into any more bandits than we have already."

"Sorry. But it's not like I can help it!" Jason hissed back.

He was inwardly shaking like a leaf, considering the events of the past few hours. Not helping matters was the fact that the one likely responsible for their predicament was casually slung over Mazhe's shoulder like some trophy. At least the crazy fucker wasn't conscious—he'd spoke too soon.

"Ah, look who's waking up," said Mazhe, happily.

They stopped for a moment, as Mazhe realized it had been several hours since they'd left the camp. It was more than enough time for his captive to recover somewhat, to at least a coherent level. He set Vaas down and knelt down beside him.

"Injured in any way?"

"No."

"Pain anywhere?"

"Fucking everywhere..."

"Balls." Mazhe reached into one of the numerous pouches on his armour, and pulled out a bottle. "Drink all of it. It'll help."

Vaas accepted the bottle, and quickly consumed the contents. A look of surprise crossed his face.

"Didn't think it would work?"

"What was it?" Jason dared ask.

"Strong potion of health. Good for relieving pain as well. Given he wasn't exactly conscious earlier, I couldn't give it to him then. Now though..." Mazhe turned his attention back to Vaas. "You okay to stand?"

"Yeah."

Mazhe got back to his feet, and offered a hand, helping his captive to his feet. Jason visually took a step back, now noticing Vaas still had his pistol in its holster.

"He won't hurt you," said Mazhe, seeing his fright, "Magic has so many uses. That... is also strictly confidential, by the way. So much as a _peep_ out of you about any of this to someone who doesn't already know, I'll roast your face off."

He turned back to Vaas. "Get us someplace safe to make camp for a few hours."

* * *

They came to an abrupt stop sometime later. Mazhe glanced around a moment, then flicked his wrist up at an outcropping of rocks, and a bright sphere of light anchored itself there, bathing the immediate area in ample light. It would make an ideal shelter, out of the way. And, it looked like the location had been used before.

"Perfect. Some wood. Jason, find us some materials for a fire."

"I'm not your bitch."

"No, but I can make your life very short, and very painful. Now _go_." Mazhe was already kicking material around, clearing off the spots that had clearly been used as sleeping mats. "Sheltered farm boy. Wouldn't last five minutes outside the city gates where I come from."

That got a laugh out of Vaas, and Mazhe had to grin as well. No, Jason Brody wouldn't last too long in the wilderness. If the boy had any sense, he wouldn't stray too far.

"I can assume you and your bandit friends found me," said Mazhe.

"We thought you were dead. Laying face down in the water after some fucked up loud noise."

"Like a clap of thunder." At Vaas' nod, Mazhe said, "Last thing I remember. A brilliant flash of light and the sound like a clap of thunder. I guess I should say thank you... though I know that likely you and your friends didn't have charity in mind when you collected me."

"Still hadn't decided what to do with you, amigo. That's some strange gear you're wearing..."

"My Guild armour. Not the most appropriate equipment. Not used to this sort of heat."

Mazhe began to remove the bandolier, and set it down. Another set of straps were undone, before he was finally able to remove the top part of his armour, revealing a simple rough-spun cotton button-up shirt under it. It was soaked with sweat.

"Here's your fucking wood." Jason had returned with an armload of wood for the fire.

"Excellent. We'll need it in the morning. Sit."

Mazhe indicated one of the cleared off mats that had likely seen better days. Meanwhile, he began to dig around in one of the pouches on his belt, then his rucksack. "Balls. Must be in the other container."

"What other container? You grabbed everything from—"

"No, I recovered everything they took from me," Mazhe said, dismissively, "I have another container I can access. It's just... a little more complicated."

Mazhe began to make a gesture with his left hand, a purple orb of energy instantly forming. He slammed it toward the ground, causing a rather loud CLINK noise, and immediately after, a ghostly shade of a chest appeared. To both Jason and Vaas, it looked like an old-fashioned steamer trunk. To their further amazement, he opened the lid, and began hauling out a few items that by the normal laws of physics would never fit: namely, two bedrolls, and two pillows—at least, Jason assumed they were pillows. He slammed the lid closed, and the trunk vanished.

"It's not the first time I've slept under the stars... though I will appreciate it being warm for a change. Having the snow blow into the tent with a bitter cold wind is not an experience I particularly enjoy."

"You come from some place cold," said Vaas. It was not a question.

"Yes. Most of it, anyway. I grew up in a place which experiences warmer weather for a brief time, but... not like this. Here." Mazhe passed over one of the bedrolls and a pillow.

"What about me?" Jason protested.

"I've only one extra bedroll. My... companion... must be comfortable," Mazhe answered, dismissively.

That earned a hateful glare from Jason, and a vicious smirk from Vaas as he began making his bed. As much as Jason was terrified of Vaas, he was becoming more and more weary of Mazhe. The spell-casting and supernatural shit was really pushing his coping skills as this point. Now, to be dismissed and marginalized further... he felt no less helpless than when he'd been in the cage. At least back there, Vaas was on the other side of it!

Mazhe glanced up at the sky. Already, it was beginning to get light on the eastern horizon. Dawn would be on them soon.

"Right. Let us get some rest. It will be light soon."

Jason huffed, questions still running fast and furious through his mind, but settled down in the rather uncomfortable mat. Vaas, on the other hand, obediently climbed into his bedroll, and got comfortable. It was one further burning issue for Jason: why was Mazhe treating this... psycho... so kindly? And how was he keeping him under control, for that matter?

Mazhe also settled down, and closed his eyes.

"No arguing. No fighting. Better, no talking." Now settled, he inhaled deeply, and clasped the amulet of Talos which lay against his chest, and invoked an old prayer his father used to recite:

"_Talos watch over me with a ready sword;  
Plant the seeds of doubt and defeat in the hearts my enemies;  
Bring strength and courage to my allies;  
And may there be a place held for me in Kynareth's realm, should I part this day._"

He quickly found sleep, but not rest, as the events from much earlier came flooding back in brilliant clarity.

* * *

_Two days prior: 8 Hearth Fire, 4E201  
Saarthal Excavation_

It was the forth such magical disturbance the College of Winterhold had been forced to deal with, following the incident with the Eye of the Magnus. Mazhe had been at the College, this time searching for information on the possible location of an Elder Scroll—a legendary item he required, according to Paarthurnax. While Urag Gro-Shub had been somewhat helpful in providing the next clue in the puzzle, Mazhe had been met by Tolfdir as he was leaving.

Now, here he was, trying to seal yet another physical tear in the very fabric of time and space, thanks to the ongoing backlash from Ancano's meddling. Of the four he'd now faced, however, this one was proving to be the strongest—and the largest.

It had opened on the hill directly west of the excavation, with more than a dozen magical anomalies swirling about. They'd already laid waste to a group of skeletons which had been roaming the area, as well as a pack of wolves, and a small skirmish involving Imperial and Stormcloak forces. The swirling mass that was the rift now towered over the terrain, perhaps three storeys high. Something was influencing it. It wasn't doing this on it's own. Not something this big.

Mazhe dual-cast a thunderbolt spell on the first of the entities. It was best to eliminate those first, since they would attack the moment he attacked the rift itself. It simply exploded on contact from the power of his spell. One down, a dozen more to go.

In his zeal to eliminate these less difficult threats, however, he failed to account for other possible threats in the area, having seen the wide-scale destruction already unleashed. So, he barely had any time to really focus on the new threat: a Draugr Death Overlord. They were quite distinctive, with their helms with tall horns making them seem about three feet taller. And they were powerful enemies.

"_Fus_..." Mazhe turned around, only to be blown into the rift by the powerful shout.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES_: _The inspiration for this came after hearing Citra tell the story of the monster and the warrior, and it was further cemented during the fight with the monster later on. Seeing his mask, it reminded me of the Dragon Priest masks-specifically, that of Miraak (from the "Dragonborn" expansion). I got to thinking, "What if the Rukyat legend was in fact founded on something from Skyrim? More specifically, something banished to the islands from Tamriel-though not intentionally?"_

_So, we have Hahdrimal-"Mind - destroyer" in the common language, and his foul magic which has ensnared the islands, bringing with it violence and insanity-until now. The Dragonborn has arrived, if perhaps by accident, to clean up yet another mess brought on by the ancient Nords. He's fought a few of the powerful Dragon Priests already... question is, how will he deal with Hahdrimal? More importantly, how will he get home from this strange place with violent people, strange weapons, and strange contraptions? After all, he still has a destiny to fulfill._


	2. A Plan of Action

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted January 9, 2013._

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**2: A PLAN OF ACTION**

* * *

Raised voices from nearby drew Mazhe out of his restless sleep. Momentarily shelving the confusing memory he now had, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up.

"Do not attack my thrall," he warned, giving Jason a cold smile, "He is worth something to me, while you, Jason, are somewhat still considered a liability. You won't like what happens to people who become a liability."

Both Jason and Vaas now noticed his irises had begun to turn a slight pink shade at the edges—it was rather startling, given his eyes were a brilliant green shade. The whites, too, were slightly pink, getting more red toward the edge. Now able to see him in the light of day, they also noticed his skin was nearly white, as if he'd not seen the warmth of the sun for some time.

Jason was further unnerved by the stranger, but still took exception. "I'm a fucking person, not some thing!"

"Vaas seemed to think otherwise last night. But that's irrelevant," Mazhe answered, dismissively, "You have no sense of how to move silently through the woods—you blundered about last night like a frightened animal; I can be certain you alerted every foe and predator for miles around of our presence... Tell me, how many people have you killed, it coming down to a choice between their life or yours? How many animals have you hunted, knowing that your next meal depended on it?"

Mazhe cast a glance at Vaas, and caught him momentarily nodding along. The man knew exactly where Mazhe was coming from. Jason, on the other hand, simply sat there, horrified.

"It is clear you are nothing more than a spoiled, naïve city boy with the survival sense that would fill my hip flask with perhaps a drop at best."

Mazhe kicked the logs into the fire pit, and cast a flame spell to get the campfire going. He then sat back, and smiled a creepy smile.

"All you need to know about me is this. At the end of the day, all I care about is the coin. What's it worth to me? What do I get out of the deal. What will keep me and the few friends I have safe? There's not much I won't do to see to those ends. So tell me, Jason Brody... what are you worth to me?"

"I..." but Jason couldn't answer. How _do_ you answer that? Last night, the stranger with supernatural abilities unnerved him. Now? Jason was absolutely terrified. He now knew he wasn't dealing with one psycho, but perhaps _two_! One which had the other somehow enthralled, kept under control. That didn't necessarily make that a good thing. All Jason knew, is the fact he needed to escape from the both of them. At the earliest opportunity.

Vaas, meanwhile, realized Mazhe was just as dangerous as his employer, Hoyt Volker. Whatever had brought Mazhe to Rook Islands would result in a swath of blood and death before the man left—Vaas likely included. What had been a curiosity now came back to bite him in the ass. Perhaps had Vaas just left the man laying face-down in the water, he wouldn't be in the situation he now found himself in.

Mazhe, meanwhile, pulled items out of his rucksack, which included a small pan, and several packages neatly wrapped in some sort of oil cloth. He set the pan on the edge of the fire, then produced a small knife, and opened up the smaller of the oil cloths.

"Butter," Mazhe explained, at the curious glances.

"Shit, there's no way all that fit in that little sack," Jason challenged.

"It's got limits, yes," Mazhe answered, "It belonged to my pa... one of the few things I still own of his. Arch-mage Tolfdir explained it's a type of magical expansion. Falls under the Alteration branch of magic. Guess it makes sense, but..."

"How much can it hold?"

"I can carry about four hundred pounds, but makes it difficult to move."

Mazhe stirred the butter around in the pan making it sizzle, then opened up the second oil cloth. To Vaas and Jason, the meat looked something like bacon.

"Boar meat," Vaas guessed.

"Yes. Difficult to get where I come from. Boars don't like the cold too much, so the meat has to be imported, and that makes it expensive."

"Ever hunted one?"

"No. Never been outside of Skyrim, really—I mean, where I grew up. But I know they're fierce creatures that can do a lot of damage if cornered."

Mazhe thought for a moment as he began putting some of the meat in the pan to cook.

"What's the wildlife like here? I assume you have boars here?"

"Yeah. Boars, tigers-"

"Tigers?"

"Big fucking scary cat."

"Oh. Something like a sabre cat then."

"What's a sabre cat?" Jason asked.

"Well..." Mazhe rummaged in his rucksack for a moment, then pulled out what was obviously a fang. It was at least eight inches long. "This is one of its front teeth. That should give you an idea."

Jason visually gulped.

"I got these—" Mazhe gestured to the three deep scars blazed across his face, "—from a sabre cat. That was _after_ I stabbed it through the heart."

Jason visually shuddered at the implication, while Vaas didn't seem terribly moved by it. He'd seen enough bad-ass predators—the island certainly had enough of them. Mazhe flipped the meat over, then reached into his rucksack and pulled out yet another oil cloth. In it, were a handful of eggs.

He looked at Vaas. "You have chickens here?"

"Yeah."

"I'll need to replenish my supply." He cracked open three eggs into the pan.

"Wonder if he's got a kitchen sink in there?" Jason muttered, scowling.

"A what?"

"You don't know what a kitchen sink is? Let me guess, no hot water either?"

"It's hot once we heat it over the fire."

"What about electricity?"

A blank look.

"How about he fucking light you up like he did that chopper, hermano?"

Now Mazhe got what Jason was talking about.

"Like this?" A glowing orb of energy appeared in his left hand, with sparks of energy jumping off of it. Jason visually shrunk back at the implication.

"Up to me, I'd just put a bullet through your fucking skull, just sayin'."

"But it's not up to you, Vaas. At least not yet," said Mazhe, with a nasty smirk, "You have very little chance to prove what you're worth to me, Jason."

The three of them ate breakfast in silence, although it was noted that Mazhe actually ate very little, passing most of it to his companions. After they were finished, Mazhe stowed the dirty plates and tools away in another oil cloth. He would clean everything once he had access to a decent amount of water—the scant amount he carried on him was meant for consumption.

"Pass over your bedroll and pillow," said Mazhe, as he packed away his own. Vaas did so, and moments later, everything was packed away. That didn't mean Mazhe was done. Now, he pulled out a pentagram-shaped board which had strange symbols carved in it. Next, came two deep purple-coloured crystals, and a vial with a blue-coloured mixture inside it, and finally, a silver ring.

"I need an article of clothing or something you wear all the time."

"What for?" came Jason's question.

"To protect you from yourself," Mazhe sneered. Vaas was already removing the necklace he wore which had a green stone dangling from it. Jason huffed, then removed one of his shoes.

"The other as well."

"Why?"

"Stop asking so many fucking questions."

Jason visually jumped at Vaas' nasty barb, and quickly complied.

Mazhe simply smirked, as he placed the necklace on the small table, then put on the ring. The ring helped boost his enchanting ability substantially. He then consumed the contents of the vial—an enchanter's draught, which doubled his enchanting ability. This ensured whatever he was about to do would be more than enough to protect his two followers. He'd debated the wisdom of giving such a gift to one he still considered a liability... but doing so would make him less so.

Being a master enchanter, he could force up to four different effects onto one item(1). He touched the dark crystal to the necklace first, and whispered, "Begin."

The symbols on the table lit up first, then a purple glow surrounded the necklace.

"Muffle." He touched a symbol on the left side of the table.

"Amplify stealth abilities." He touched a symbol on the right side of the table.

"Regenerate health." He touched the symbol at the top of the table.

"Regenerate stamina." He touched the symbol at the top of the table a second time.

"Finalize." He then touched the necklace one more time with the crystal. This time the crystal seemed to bloom a powerful purple light, before it vanished. The necklace shimmered a moment, and the green stone took on a lighter green glow.

"As long as you wear this, your steps will be silent. You will be near impossible to detect, you'll recover from injuries significantly faster, and you'll recover your stamina significantly faster," Mazhe explained, as he returned the necklace.

"Thank you, amigo," said Vaas, accepting his property back. It felt slightly warm to the touch, but he put it back on. It was still glowing slightly.

"The glow is permanent. Rather enhances it, I think," said Mazhe, with a smirk. He then turned his attention to Jason's shoes, quickly putting the same enchantments on them.

"Do not think that this means your standing with me has changed. I do this only for our safety. Blundering around such as you did last night is a good way to get us all captured or killed."

"But..."

"Enough. Moving on to the next issue: What sort of operation is going on here? And more importantly, who's in charge?"

Vaas leaned forward on the dirty mat, and fished something out of the back pocket of his pants. It was a small package, which he opened, and pulled out a white, thin, cylindrical object. A second object was retrieved from another pocket, and then he placed the white object between his lips, and did something with the second. Mazhe was amazed to see a flame emit from the second device, and light the first.

"May I see that?"

Vaas simply handed the object over as he seemed to inhale from the now burning object. Mazhe turned the object over in his hands, seemingly confused.

"It's a cigarette lighter," Jason said.

"It makes fire, you mean." Mazhe opened the lid and looked at it, then pressed the roller, such as he'd seen Vaas do. When the flame appeared on demand, he almost dropped it, but immediately snapped the lid shut again.

Jason smirked. "Shit, you really _are_ from another planet or something."

Vaas exhaled a plume of smoke (which didn't quite startle Mazhe as much as the lighter, but it was still curious). "On this island, I'm king shit, I'm in charge. The south island, it's Hoyt Volker."

"You work for him." It wasn't a question, but got a nod out of Vaas. "He come here often?"

"Long as there's not problems, no."

"Good. What sort of business are you running? Though I have a strong suspicion based on the little _heart-to-heart_ you were having with Jason and his brother last night."

That earned a look of cold fury from Jason.

"Jason and his pretty boy brother would've made us heaps of cash," said Vaas, nodding in agreement.

"Rather difficult when the product decides to up and run away though," Mazhe smirked. "Slavery then?"

"No, no, hermano. We don't keep slaves. Our clients do." Vaas put the burning white object to his lips again and inhaled.

Mazhe seemed to think a moment. "Interesting. Human trafficking. We still have that in a few places back where I'm from. The... government... doesn't like it, it's effectively outlawed in all corners of the empire. It is profitable?"

Vaas exhaled another plume of smoke and smiled. "Depends on the buyer and the product."

"This is true. While I don't deal in human or elven cargo, there are plenty of other nefarious methods for making coin. Trafficking in illegal substances and items is a staple for me. You and I, we're more alike than you might think."

At that comment, Jason seemed to shrink back even further, now more terrified than ever. What sane individual would ever think of a human being as a 'product'?!

"Knew you were a special fucker," Vaas grinned.

"The Guild became my family when I finally escaped the orphanage at fifteen. They're one of the few people I would readily kill for. Family are supposed to watch out for each other and all that."

A dark look momentarily crossed Vaas' face. Mazhe caught it, and filed it away for later. He could certainly ask and get an honest answer, but there was no need to dig up old wounds, and make things more difficult in the future.

"My normal business aside, my primary objective, is to find a way back where I belong. I was dropped here through a magical tear in time and space. Somewhere here, on this island, I'll find the opposite end of that connection." He looked directly at Vaas. "You will help me find that connection."

That got a blank look, as Vaas took one final deep inhale from the burning object, which had gotten much shorter as he consumed it. He then crushed out the remains with his foot.

"For starters, I think it'll be best if I find some more suitable clothing. Gods, the sun's not even high in the sky and I'm overwhelmed by the heat."

Mazhe's shirt was already partly soaked with sweat, so he stripped it off, balled it up and threw it in the rucksack, along with the top part of his guild armour. The Bandolier was then slung over his shoulder as it normally would.

"God... it's like you've never been out in the sun," Jason remarked.

That earned an evil grin from Mazhe while he fetched four different necklaces from his rucksack and put them on. Vaas could see at least one of them was made of gold, while the others were made of braided materials. He silently cursed himself for not checking the man's rucksack more carefully the previous night before they'd began interrogating Jason and the other rejects. His men could've made a fortune, even if he was currently indisposed.

"I'll also need a place to call home, at least temporarily. And a map of the islands would be an idea—I did catch a glimpse of one last night, but to be able to properly study one would be even better."

"Crash at my compound. Everything you need, fuckin' clothes, map, a bed to crash on..."

"Yeah and your pirate buddies'll shoot me on sight! No thanks," Jason objected.

"Actually, I like it. What better way to hide from your pursuers, than right square in the middle of them? All right, how do we get there?"

Jason looked like he wanted to bang his head against the wall.

Mazhe scowled. "If you want to live, you'll do exactly what we tell you to."

"We could tie him up," Vaas suggested.

"We could, but for now, we won't," said Mazhe, "Let's break camp, then you can show us where your... compound is. However," he purred, "Should anyone there prove to be a danger, they will _die_. It is that simple. I'll leave the safety of your friends up to you."

* * *

The sun was much higher in the sky before they stepped out onto a well-travelled dirt track. They crossed it, and then Mazhe spotted it: a plume of dark smoke rising from a location just downhill from where they were.

"This way amigos." Vaas was leading them straight for it.

Less than a minute later, they stepped into a moderate-sized outpost,with easily two-dozen men wandering about. All of them wore at least one item of clothing that was red in colour. And, at this point, all of them were giving Jason and Mazhe death glares. Likely the only thing that prevented them from reaching for weapons, was the fact Vaas was with them. He was already addressing the matter, though this time he was speaking in a strange language.

The buildings were most certainly not a growing concern, made of wood and some strange material Mazhe had never seen before. Additionally, there were several contraptions arranged near one of the gates. They each had four seats in them, and four, round objects under them.

"Lemme guess. You've never seen a car before either," Jason leered.

Mazhe smirked. "Your selling price just took another dive, Mr. Brody. Y'know, I've not exacted personal revenge on very many. The last one survived five days before I gave them the merciful release of death."

Vaas arched an eyebrow, while Mazhe continued, "For your information, no, I have absolutely no clue what those things might be. But if you might enlighten me, perhaps your value might increase again."

"Fuck you."

"Okay then. My friends..."

"No! No, no, I... I was just kidding," Jason pleaded, as several of the pirates began to advance on them.

"You think this is some game, Jason. You think we're just fucking around?!" Vaas rounded in on him, "Wake the fuck up!"

Mazhe drew in a breath, then calmly spoke, "Curse or swear at me ever again, and no amount of cajoling and pleading will save your hide. I'll let Vaas and his friends here deal with you in whatever way they deem fit."

Vaas patted his cheek. "Soon, pretty boy..."

"Fuck you."

"That goes for my friend, too," said Mazhe.

"Then tell him to keep his fucking hands to himself!"

It was like lightning. Vaas pulled back and punched Jason in the crotch. The man collapsed like a sack of stones, rolling on the ground, clutching his now very sore nether region, while the rest of the pirates observing laughed and jeered.

It was Mazhe now, wanting to bang his head on a wall somewhere.

"Enough," he hissed, "This is not getting anything accomplished. Accommodations, clothes, map."

"This is not my compound, hermano," said Vaas, "We need to take a little ride first. In one of those."

He pointed to one of the strange contraptions which was painted red. It had a white symbol of some sort painted on the side of it—it somewhat resembled an eye, if Mazhe had to describe it.

"A... car... Jason called it. What does it do?"

"You trust me?"

"Without question," Mazhe answered.

"Amigos... drop that piece of shit white boy in the back." Vaas pointed to the still prone form of Jason. He then pointed to another pirate who wore something red which covered his face. "You drive." He pointed to another with dark skin. "You're shotgun."

After seeing Vaas climb into the back seat, Mazhe followed suit, while the other two climbed into the front. Mazhe was still very confused as to exactly what they would be doing, until the contraption seemed to come to life, vibrating and making a strange, low, roar. He almost jumped out, but Vaas gripped his shoulder and prevented it.

"Trust me, it's all good, hermano."

With that, Mazhe tried to relax, although all his senses were screaming that something was horribly wrong. The sensation was bizarre... and then... they started moving.

"Shor's beard!" Mazhe exclaimed, as the picture instantly became clear, "It's... a horseless carriage!"

"You're funny, amigo," Vaas grinned, as they started off down another dirt path.

Once they'd rode up the dirt path and onto a wider, more packed road, Mazhe was once again surprised, as they accelerated.

"Gods... never in all my life... not even flying, have I ever travelled at such a pace!"

"Have to get you a ride in a chopper then."

"The contraption I destroyed last night."

"Same, yes. Fuck, hermano, those things aren't easy to bring down."

"Thunderbolt. It's potent cast with one hand. Dual-cast, it can do some serious damage. Not too many things in my world can stand up to it. One shot will cripple, the second is fatal. Lesser foes the first shot is fatal."

"Fucking human toast."

"Uh, about the size of it." Mazhe thought for a moment. "Vaas... what does... what does 'fuck' mean?"

Vaas burst out laughing, as the jeep roared down the road.

* * *

The ride took about an hour, at which time they at last pulled off the road, onto a narrower path. Mazhe had already seen the water several times during the ride, but now as they drew close, it was truly beautiful. They pulled out onto the beach and the driver finally turned off the engine.

Mazhe easily hoisted himself out of the vehicle, then turned around to wait for the rest. Jason had managed to partially sit up, although the look on his face said he was still in agony, and Mazhe had to smirk inwardly. Oh yes, he knew exactly the kind of pain the boy was in right now, having been kicked by a horse in the same area when he was sixteen (the wily mare didn't take kindly to him trying to steal her... no more needs to be said). The question was, would that change Jason's attitude problem? Why was Mazhe making the boy his problem anyway? His brother... right. He'd not technically given his word on the matter, but still...

"Come... this way." Vaas was already leading him toward another odd contraption—some sort of boat, Mazhe guessed. He looked back, and his assumption was correct, as the other two pirates were dragging Jason out of the vehicle. At this point his concern was limited to whether or not the boy was alive and conscious. If the pirates wanted to be a little rough, so be it.

"The boat works like your... vee-hi-kul," Mazhe guessed. It was mostly black, with a strange cylindrical part at the top. Two odd machines hung from the back of it, and there was a platform in the middle of it, with what Mazhe now knew to be a powerful gun mounted on it.

"Yeah, exactly the same. Help us get it in the water."

With Mazhe helping, they pushed the boat into deeper water. At this point he didn't care his feet were getting wet, but was surprised at the warmth from the sea. The only other place he'd ever felt water so warm in nature, was the hot springs in Eastmarch. He forced those thoughts out of his mind, while he helped deposit Jason in the now freely floating craft. Then the rest of them climbed in, and the driver started the engine.

This machine made a completely different noise than the jeep. It was loud... exceptionally loud, and Mazhe instantly loathed it. Luckily, the trip was a short one, and within a matter of minutes, they were brought alongside a small dock by more of Vaas' men. Like the rest, at least one article of clothing they wore was red. He was instantly drawn to one of them, who carried a strange weapon which had what looked like a jug attached to it.

"What kind of weapon is that?" he dared ask. The pirate smirked, pointed the weapon out to sea, and depressed the trigger a moment. A plume of flame ballooned from the end of it.

"It's a flamethrower," he explained.

"Oh. Like this?" Mazhe leaned back. "_Yol... TOOOOOR_!" The shout was loud, and an enormous plume of flame bloomed out over the water. Had he unleashed it on the dock, it would have easily engulfed the boat, the dock, and the small shack at the end of it.

"Shit!"

"Fuck me!"

"What!?"

More shouts of alarm could be heard from another area hidden by trees, and the pirates with them had actually brought up their weapons, startled by the display.

"Uh... sorry," Mazhe grinned, sheepishly. Vaas shook his head and un-clipped a device from the back of his pants, speaking into it, "False alarm amigos."

"_Copy that_," came a voice through the device.

"Jesus Christ," was all that Jason managed.

"Think he's playing now, Jason?"

Jason gave Vaas another death glare, as the enlarged group began to make their way through a narrow path in the jungle. Mazhe closed his eyes, then opened them, once again activating his predator vision. A heavily wooded area was the perfect hiding place for enemies.

It was not needed, however. The trip was relatively short, arriving at a small clearing less than a minute later. There was a wood bridge to the left, a tall guard tower to the right, partially hidden in the trees, and directly ahead, on the opposite side, was a tall fence that might actually be as high as Whiterun's city walls. An enormous red gate was just beginning to open, and from inside, Mazhe could hear the strangest noise—music, perhaps. Nothing he'd ever heard, this was for certain.

When the gate was open wide enough to admit them through, Vaas went first, with Jason and Mazhe following. Jason looked like he would bolt at any second, visually shaking with fright. Now inside the gate, the sound was near unbearable, and Mazhe quickly worked out the source: a stack or black objects across the yard. Whatever it was, the sound level was more than uncomfortable.

The yard itself was filled with people, more than a few of them women, all pitching and swaying to the strange music. It was some sort of party, and perhaps, if the noise coming from those black things wasn't so bad, it might be entertaining. After all, it was still early in the afternoon, if Mazhe's guess of the time was right. To be partying in the middle of the afternoon... either it had been a long night, or they were just getting started, and it would BE a long night.

Thankfully, Mazhe only had to put up with it briefly, as they crossed the yard and travelled up a short set of stairs, to another large, red door. It had a white symbol on it identical to the one on the jeep earlier. It took several pirates to pull it open.

The inside of the building was rather disjointed, with numerous hallways and rooms, all of them dimly lit, and rundown. It for some reason reminded Mazhe of an ancient Nordic tomb. However, Vaas clearly knew where he was going, and so Mazhe said nothing. No surprise, three pirates had followed, likely to protect their boss. It was clear the pirates all knew about Jason, by the death glares they were giving him.

A short while later, they arrived at a room full of clutter, and several mats much like they'd used that morning back at the makeshift camp. The furniture was sparse at best, with a makeshift shelf off on one side, a workbench, and a barrel of some sort that had been chopped in half. A small fire was crackling away in what remained of it. Mazhe was immediately drawn to the workbench, as he spotted a map pinned to the wall above it.

"Is this of the islands?"

"Yeah," Vaas answered, simply.

"Where are we now?"

"Up here. This tiny island." Vaas put a finger on a small island separated from the north island. The northeastern part of the islands, then, Mazhe worked out. Glancing about, he spotted what he assumed were several very detailed drawings. They were practically life-like.

He was about to ask about them, when his eyes fell on something much more important: an ornament in the shape of a dragon claw. Mazhe had already dealt with several Nordic ruins that required a special 'key' to open them, a key exactly like that which now rested on Vaas' workbench. He picked it up. This one was a deep rust colour, with even deeper crimson-coloured jewels for actual claws. He turned it over.

"Snake, whale, dragon," he whispered, seeing the pictures carved into the back of it.

"You know what this is," said Vaas. It was not a question.

"I know exactly what it is, yes. My arrival here may not have been an accident."

Mazhe opened his rucksack, and put the dragon claw inside of it. Though Vaas wanted to protest (both verbally and physically), something prevented it. Hell, there were more than a few occasions Vaas had wanted to lash out at the magic-caster, but something, somehow, prevented it. All he could do, was mentally stew about it for a few minutes.

"What's it for then?" Jason asked.

"In the ancient times, the Nordic people built tombs and so on. Some of the more important locations have elaborate security measures, including a door that works like a puzzle—you need both the key and the combination to open it. This claw is a key."

He looked at Vaas.

"Where did you find this?"

* * *

An hour later, they were once again roaring down a dusty road in the red jeep, this time travelling to a location on the southern part of the island. Mazhe realized this method of travel would end up wasting him days, so he would have to spend time later learning a new spell he'd picked up from the court mage in Solitude. Being able to flash instantly to a location would speed this process up immensely—he'd not had the chance to properly study up to this point, with all that had been going on.

Something zipping overhead brought him out of his thoughts, as they came to a very abrupt stop.

"What's wrong?" Mazhe demanded.

The answer came in the form of a series of loud POPS from a short distance away. Following the sound, Mazhe could see another vehicle stopped not far up the road. It was similar to the jeep they were in, other than it being a light blue colour. Six individuals had gotten out of it, and were then crouched in the grass. More pops, and a bullet found its mark—the pirate driving took one through the temple and collapsed in a heap.

"Balls." Mazhe again activated his predator vision, picking up the six threats. He crouched down, and to Vaas, it was as if Mazhe had vanished in plain sight.

Then, it was a bloodbath. Within moments, two of the attackers had a frozen projectile lodged in their chests. Another moment, the third had a knife protruding from his chest, and a fourth was rolling around in the grass, trying to put out the fire that was his face—he made terrible sounds as he did so.

Vaas and the remaining pirate had no time to really do anything in the form of helping before Mazhe had completely decimated the ambush. His last kill came from behind, using the deadly-looking dagger he carried, as he pushed it up and through the man's torso. Now visible, he casually walked back over to one of the earlier targets, and collected the knife from the corpse, wiping the blood off using the dead man's clothes.

And, the excitement was still not over. As Mazhe began to walk back toward the jeep, there was a swirling, twisting band of magic that connected with something in Mazhe's rucksack, making a crackling, sizzling noise.

At the unasked question on the faces of his travelling companions, Mazhe said, "Remember the purple crystal I used this morning?"

"When you put spells on our shit," Vaas remembered.

"Enchantments," Mazhe corrected, "But yes." He reached into his rucksack, and pulled out two of the crystals. One was much darker than the other, and was warm to the touch. "There are many who believe there is no fate worse than death; that death means greeting loved ones and friends long gone once again. Those who practice magic, on the other hand, know different. These are what are called soul gems... containers used to collect the souls of the dead. Particularly, theses are black soul gems, the rarest of rare, in that they can collect the souls of dead people."

Jason, Vaas, and the remaining pirate were equally unnerved at such a concept.

"What happens to the soul?" Vaas dared ask.

"There's loads of debate, but the common consensus is they go to what's called the _Soul Cairn(2)_, a plane of Oblivion. It's a one-way trip."

"Can we send Jason there?"

Mazhe laughed. Jason turned white.

"Really proved your worth, quivering in the back seat like a leaf." Mazhe clucked his tongue in disapproval.

"What was I supposed to do? It's not like I have a gun or anything!" Jason objected.

"Hmmm... a fair point," Mazhe conceded, "But I don't think we can trust you. Giving you a weapon, knowing your attitude toward us... no, I don't think that will happen any time soon. Though you should know, should you have an inkling of attacking either of us, an eternity in the _Soul Cairn_ will be the least of your worries. I do happen to know of a spell that will turn someone inside out. I've not used it, but from what I've been told, it's quite messy."

* * *

Sometime later, they came to a stop in a small clearing. Immediately, Mazhe could see a structure of some sort, built in an architectural style he'd not seen before. If he had to guess, it did have similarities to the ancient Akiviri people—Sky Haven Temple had a few similarities with what he was seeing here.

"Gods... this is beautiful," said Mazhe, impressed. The stonework had a green shade to it. The builders were master craftsmen, easily on par with the Nords.

"The Chinese built this shit a long time ago," Vaas explained, "There's dozens of these things all over the islands."

"I truly wish there was some way to record what I am seeing here. There are those back in Skyrim who would be very much intrigued by the architecture."

"Would this help?" Jason opened a case on his hip, and pulled out one of the items he'd grabbed the previous night during their escape from the camp. He pressed a button on the top, then passed it over.

"What does... oh." Mazhe was impressed, as an image filled the little screen on the back of it.

"Press that button and it'll capture what it's pointing at," Jason explained, pointing to one of the buttons on the top of the device. Mazhe pointed the device at the structure, and pressed the button. Like magic, the image froze for a few seconds.

"Wait... where did it go?"

"It gets stored inside it. Uh, just trust me."

"So I can take another?"

"As long as there's memory... space inside. There's lots of memory."

"I..." Mazhe was still confused as to exactly how it was keeping the picture, but brought the camera closer to the ruin, and snapped another. And another... and another.

"Those... pictures... on the wall back at your compound... this is how they were made," Mazhe guessed. That got a nod out of Vaas. "Fascinating... oh." Mazhe knelt down beside a pile of rubble.

"That shit's not Chinese."

"No," said Mazhe, excited, "It's Nordic. See the carving? Back to the dragon war and the first era. The Nords have been here, this confirms it."

Although it was only a pile of rubble, the remains were definitely Nordic in design. The dark stone had decayed somewhat with the march of time, but there was no mistaking it for what it was.

"Wait. This... this is not an actual dwelling or tomb. There would be more evidence if there was an actual ruin here."

"More shit like this then," Vaas guessed.

"I'll need to see any ruin you know of."

"There are a lot of them, hermano."

* * *

It was sunset before they returned to the compound. Mazhe had entertained himself most of the way by snapping pictures of things as they blew by—though slightly disappointed as many of the pictures turned out blurry. To Jason, it was somewhere between amusing and a relief, to realize that the strange person had some sort of humanity inside him. For the time being, Mazhe was acting like a kid at Christmas, rather than a psychopath.

Once back at the compound, a meal was prepared, with Mazhe this time providing venison, grilled leeks, carrots, and baked potatoes. They were not surprised to see that once again, Mazhe ate very little of anything.

With the dishes stowed away in his rucksack, Mazhe said, "I need access to a blacksmith forge."

"A what?" Jason was confused.

"Nothing like that here," Vaas answered, shaking his head.

"Hm... then what I need is something that can melt this..." he pulled a small ingot from his rucksack. Vaas knew he was looking at several ounces of pure silver.

"Carlos!"

It was dark by the time they had rigged up something that would acceptably stand in for a forge. A thick clay pot had been set up on a pile of stones, with a welding torch positioned beneath it, linked up to a pair of tanks. A pirate with some welding experience had explained what it did, and to Mazhe, it was more than plausible.

The torch was lit, giving off a bright yellow flame, until the nozzle was adjusted, adding a second fuel, which made the fire turn blue. Mazhe was intrigued, not having seen a fire burn that way—save for magic. This was all done without magic.

He could see the clay already beginning to heat, and that was his cue to add the ingot—two ounces of pure silver. He would likely only need a fraction of it for what he was about to make, but he would simply allow the rest to re-harden and stow it away. For now, he began to set out his smithing tools: tongs, hammers, heavy insulated gloves, a ring mold, a ring sizing tool, and a few other items he might or might not need. He also retrieved a small ruby from his rucksack as the setting; it would distinguish the ring from others he had.

"Fuck, you're loaded hermano."

"Just a little," Mazhe smirked, reaching into his rucksack. He plucked out a flawless diamond, and tossed it to him. "Here."

"Holy shit!" The diamond was about the size of his thumb, and had to be perfect in every way. It would be worth a fortune!

Mazhe, meanwhile, used one of his tools to prod the ingot, which was beginning to melt in the bottom of the clay pot. It would take a little time for it to liquify.

"So you're making a ring... what for?" Jason asked.

"Enchanting. You'll see when it's done. Uh, I'll also need a container of water for cooling."

Once the precious metal had melted, Mazhe used a small ladle to transfer some of it into a small mold which would roughly shape the ring. He allowed it to set for a few minutes, before turning the mold over, and using the small hammer, tapping it gently in several places. Turning it back over, the ring had been left behind on the workbench. With the metal still very hot, he used tongs to place it on the special ring stick, and force the small stone rather crudely into the ring. An expert jeweller would craft special settings for the stone, but Mazhe wasn't terribly interested in a perfect piece at this point.

Then, it was nearly an hour of extra shaping, polishing, heating, and cooling, before he performed the last step in the operation. Without a clamp to hold it, he had Vaas hold the ring with the tongs, while Mazhe put used two small letter stamps to stamp the letter 'F' on the inside of it, opposite the stone. He then plunged it into the provided bucket of water one more time, before sliding it on his left index finger. It fit perfectly.

"Now, one more thing before this little project is completed."

He quickly stowed away his crafting tools, then pulled out his enchanting table, as well as a black soul gem. He smirked. "Remember the ambush this afternoon? Poor bastard."

He placed the newly crafted ring in the centre of the table, then activated the table as before. As had happened that morning, the symbols on the table lit up first, then a purple glow surrounded the ring.

"Ability, flight," he whispered, touching the soul gem to the symbol on the left side of the table.

"Finalize," he whispered, touching the soul gem to the ring. Same as before, the crystal seemed to bloom a powerful purple light, before it vanished. The ring shimmered a moment, and took on a slightly red glow, particularly centred around the tiny ruby embedded in it.

"Flight? Yeah, right," Jason snorted.

Mazhe simply smirked, and slipped the ring on. He very quickly rose off the floor, and it was a given that everyone watching took a step back. It was rather unsettling, after all.

It was sometime later before the others fell asleep. Mazhe lay there, waiting. Jason had taken the longest, likely alarmed at the circumstance he still found himself in. It was pretty easy for Mazhe to put himself in the boy's shoes—surrounded by enemies at this point. Mazhe knew this place was perfectly safe... whatever Vaas had said earlier had been more than effective, and in fact, the pirates had been more than helpful earlier.

Finally positive the others were asleep, Mazhe got up on his hands and knees, then crawled over to where Vaas was sleeping, then leaned in, and sunk his fangs into his neck. It had been over twenty four hours since he'd done so, much longer, and the man could break the blood magic. So as he fed, Mazhe once again reinforced the powerful magic which kept Vaas enthralled. At this point, Mazhe was unsure of what his long term plans were for the man... it was the first time he'd ever created a thrall. No matter, he would cross that bridge when the time came. For now, his hunger sated, and the blood magic renewed, he flopped down beside hit thrall, where sleep quickly found him.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: Uh, I did warn you this story's not for Jason fans, right?  
_

_Mazhe's reaction to our world's technology has been a blast to write thus far. I mean, he's faced dragons, right? But no matter what, he's still human, so yeah, he'll definitely get tripped up by the unknown... to things behaving in an unexpected manner. This will play a factor as long as Mazhe's in Vaas' world, I think._

_(1) Normally the "Twin Souls" perk in the enchanting tree only allows two enchantments. There's a fistful of mods out there which alter this to three, four, or even more. I think four is more than enough. Additionally, if you're familiar with the enchanting tables in Skyrim, you'll see he's connecting the branch of magic associated with the effect to the item he's enchanting. We never get any sort of idea how actual enchanting takes place; we just get a menu and POOF, we get an enchanted item out of it. So hope this suffices._

_(2) Introduced with the "Dawnguard" expansion, but this is now considered official lore in the Elder Scrolls universe._


	3. Interlude I - Escape

_Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Posted February xx, 2013._

* * *

**INTERLUDE I: ESCAPE**

* * *

_Early morning of 17 Last Seed, 4E201  
Village of Helgen, Falkreath Hold  
Province of Skyrim_

They'd been on the road for two days. Two days after that infernal ambush at Darkwater Crossing. The Imperial forces had taken one look at his outfit, and he was lumped in with the rest of the captured. Considering that included Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Eastmarch, this was bad. Correction, this was beyond bad.

Of course Mazhe knew all about the Jarl's duel with Skyrim's high king. Some called it a duel, fair and square, while others called it outright murder. Naturally, that's exactly what the Empire thought, resulting in the current predicament.

As they passed through the city gates, Mazhe caught a glimpse of their destination. A priestess of Arkay was there, as was General Tullius, the military governor of Skyrim. Another cloaked figure was on horseback—ah, of course. Elenwyn, the Thalmor ambassador. Mazhe had only seen her once before, but he made a habit of remembering their faces. Arrogant asses, the lot of them.

The wagons pulled to a stop, and within moments, the large group were being pulled off. A pair of soldiers were standing a short distance away, one holding a ledger of some sort. The other, judging by the armour, was a captain.

"When we call your name, step toward the block, one at a time!"

"The empire and their damn lists," Ralof muttered. Mazhe knew Ralof, they had met a few times while Mazhe was in the small village of Riverwood on business.

'Exactly as expected,' Mazhe thought, 'End of the line.' He was in a daze at this point. Attempting to escape would mean his end just as quickly—as a fellow Breton had just found out, now laying face down on the road with several arrows sticking in his back. He barely heard as General Tullius addressed the Jarl, condemning him for his actions.

The priestess was then giving them their last rites. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved..."

"Oh for the love of Talos shut up and let's get this over with!" the first prisoner snarled, practically storming over to the chopping block, "Come on, I haven't got all morning!"

"As you wish."

The priestess snapped the scroll shut, while the prisoner knelt in front of the block. Mazhe had seen a man executed before—it was one of those things that... as terrible as it was, one could not look away. The headsman brought his axe up high over his head, and brought it down in one swift, terrible motion. There was a deadening 'thunk', and the man's head was severed from his body.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," said Ralof, sadly.

The still of the morning was broken by a strange, distant roar.

"Did you hear that?" asked the soldier with the ledger.

The captain didn't seem to notice. "Next prisoner... Mazhe of Ivarstead."

The roar came for a second time.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?"

"I said, next _prisoner_!" the captain snapped.

"To the block, prisoner, nice and slow.

"Talos guard you," said Ralof, as Mazhe stepped toward the block. Resigned to his fate, he knelt down, and rested his head on the block. The headsman again raised his terrible blade and—

Something flew overhead, momentarily casting an enormous shadow over the ground. It settled on top of one of the towers on the fort... it was black, with demonic-looking wings, with two crimson eyes that surveyed the scene below it.

"_Yol_—" A tremendous bloom of fire erupted from its mouth, sending everyone scattering. Mazhe rolled off to the side, just narrowly escaping the blast of heat and flame. He tucked himself up against the wall of the tower, quickly casting a flame spell to burn the bindings off his hands.

"Mazhe! Come on, get up!" Ralof was offering a hand, and Mazhe took it, allowing himself to be hauled to his feet. "The gods won't give us another chance."

"Thank you."

"This way."

The pair charged across the small yard, into one of the towers. There, they found the rest of the Stormcloaks, along with the Jarl.

"Sir," Mazhe greeted, "I do wish our meeting was under better terms."

"What is that thing?" Ralof questioned, "Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric answered, grimly.

There came an awful crash that was a little too close for comfort.

"We have to move! Now!" Ulfric barked.

"Come on, up through the tower!" Ralof shouted, pointing in the direction of the stairs. Mazhe didn't waste any time following their lead.

They'd reached the second landing, when there was another crash and a spray of bricks and debris. And, through the hole, Mazhe knew he had looked into the face of pure evil. Two crimson eyes were staring back at him.

"_Yol_—" Mazhe jumped out of the way just in time, as the bloom of fire filled the space he'd just occupied. When he looked back, the others were gone.

"Jump! To the floor below!" Ralof urged, "Go! We'll follow when we can!"

Mazhe didn't need any further prompting, but leaped through the gaping hole the dragon had made, to land rather roughly on the second floor of a home that had been wrecked likely moments before. He took a moment to catch his breath... Gods, it was as if the world were on fire. Flaming debris was falling from the sky, which had clouded over with grey and orange shades. For all intents and purposes, it was the end of the world.

"_Yol_—" Mazhe jumped down through a hole in the floor to land on the ground level, as another bloom of fire set the upper part of the wrecked house on fire. Taking a quick glance around, he then charged out across the ground—Lokir's body was still laying in the middle of the road, arrows sticking from his back. At least that somewhat made sense.

The soldier that had been with the captain was calling out to a boy. Gods... the dragon had spotted him. It settled down on the road, causing the ground to shake with its weight.

"_Yol—_" A bloom of fire filled the road... Gods, the kid was lucky, just able to stay out of range of the flames. The dragon took off, as the boy ran to who was likely his parent.

"Everyone get back!" the soldier shouted, then, "Still alive, prisoner? Stay close to me if you want to stay that way! Gunmar! Take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defence."

Mazhe joined the soldier, as they began to pick their way through the shattered remains of the town. In all his short life, Mazhe had never witnessed destruction on such a scale. Sure, he'd read about the great war and the sacking of the Imperial City, but that had been years ago, before he'd been born. This... here... now, it was happening before his eyes.

Entering the shattered remains of the keep's outer yard, they encountered Ralof.

"Ralof! You damned traitor! _Out_ of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar, and you're not stopping us this time!" Ralof growled.

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde! With me, prisoner, let's go!"

But Mazhe didn't follow. Hadvar hadn't even noticed as he charged inside one of the doors leading into the keep.

"Ralof..."

"Come on, this way."

They charged into another entrance, and Ralof slammed the door closed. It was only then Mazhe noticed he was actually shaking. A mixture of fear, excitement—the fight-or-flight scenario. This wasn't just a bunch of bandits, though. A dragon. A real, live, dragon. Here. Now.

* * *

It was no surprise they encountered plenty of Imperial soldiers inside the keep. This was their territory, after all. Between the pair of them, they dispatched the lot of them. Though certainly more than capable with either a dagger or a bow, he was more than happy to resort to spell-casting. Destruction was his favoured branch of magic, and he was working his way through the expert level of study at this point.

The sun was high in the sky by the time they found their way out of the keep, by way of a cave. They found themselves just north of the town, and even here, smoke was being carried north by the wind.

"Come with me to Riverwood. My sister will see to us and give us a place to rest for a night or so."

"Thank you. Though I will need to dispatch a courier back to Riften. Most unfortunate that my business errand has been completely ruined."

"Guild business, you mean," said Ralof, as they started walking, and then- "Get down!"

An ominous shape passed overhead as they pressed themselves against a large boulder.

"There he goes. Hopefully that's the last of him."

"As much as I hope you're right, I have a feeling I'll be seeing him again," said Mazhe, "A dragon. The prophecy of the end times is coming to fruition."

Ralof arched an eyebrow. "How is it you know of this? You're a Breton."

"Plenty of research back at the College of Winterhold. It's not exactly a secret, am I right?"

"No, you are right, friend."

The rest of the walk to Riverwood was passed in silence, as Mazhe continued to try and come to grips with what he'd just experienced. A dragon. Destruction on a scale he'd not witnessed until now. With the province on the verge of all-out civil war, the prophecy was most certainly in motion, spiralling toward its inevitable end: the destruction of all things, the literal end of the world.

Gerdur, Ralof's sister, was more than happy to open her home to Mazhe. He was more than appreciative of the gesture, and did accept her hospitality, choosing to take a few hours and get some rest, before making the trek to Whiterun. If the dragon decided to attack Riverwood, the town was defenceless. Since Riverwood was in Whiterun hold, it would be up to the Jarl there to send a detachment of guards to help out.

* * *

Shortly after three o'clock, Mazhe at last arrived at the gates to Whiterun's city proper.

"Halt. City's closed on the count of dragons. Official business only," declared a burly looking guard, severely.

"I bring news of the attack on Helgen. Riverwood begs the Jarl's aid and protection," said Mazhe.

"Then head on in. You will find the Jarl in his keep at the top of the hill-"

Mazhe cut him off, saying, "I know where to find Jarl Balgruuf, thank you."

The walk up to Dragonsreach took a quarter of an hour; he most certainly knew more than a few people in the hold's capital, given some of his business dealings. He had public business, and business that most people here had no clue about—namely his involvement in the Thieves Guild. He knew about a quarter of the residences here rather intimately—not that the owners knew that! It was about the same when it came to the businesses. The Guild had re-established itself here the previous month, thanks to the Battle-born clan. As much as Mazhe didn't like dealing with them, they were a Guild supporter, and under the current circumstances, the Guild needed all the help it could get.

He pushed open the great doors, but it wasn't the voices inside he was hearing.

* * *

"Amigo..." Mazhe felt someone gently shaking him. "Hey. Wake up."

"Huh?"

"Brody's escaped."


End file.
